


if this plane fell to the water i'm ok

by mairo



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, M/M, Short Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17445770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mairo/pseuds/mairo
Summary: Changmin is afraid of airplanes, and Chanhee is a stranger.





	if this plane fell to the water i'm ok

**Author's Note:**

> hello there~
> 
> this is kind of a short, unplanned drabble that’s pretty dialogue-heavy. i love nyukyu and plane rides so here’s something i managed to squeeze out during hectic school times.
> 
> the title is taken from jeremy zucker's "keep my head afloat"

“Are you okay?”

Changmin widened his eyes in surprise, turning to the seat next to him.

Was he okay? He believes so. If floating in a shaky metal bird controlled by the hands of two pilots he’s never met before counts as okay, then he’s okay.

“Uh… Yeah,” Changmin said, trying to make his tone as light as possible. “Why do you ask?”

The stranger smiled, seemingly concerned. “You’re shaking.”

Shaking?

Changmin glared at his own hand, which was grasping the armrest like a lifeline. It was, indeed, shaking. _Stop it_ , he chided himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, placing his hands on his thighs in an attempt to relieve them.

“No, don’t apologize,” the stranger assured, tilting his head. “It’s not your fault.”

Changmin kept his head down, gaze focused on his hands as he clasped them together.

 _Ah, I blew it,_ Changmin thought to himself.

The one time he decided to be an adult and catch a plane by himself, begging to conform with everyone else and be _normal_ , he messes up.

It didn’t help that he was sitting next to a cute guy, too.

“Is this… Your first time?” the stranger said, interrupting Changmin’s self-scolding.

Changmin looked up at him, mouth agape.

 _Oh, so you’re_ pretty _pretty._

The stranger chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I thought talking to me might help you calm down a bit. You seem really agitated.”

_Are all pretty strangers this nice, too?_

“I’m prying, am I? Oh man, now I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry,” the stranger apologized, turning away.

“No, no! It’s okay,” Changmin managed to let out.

The stranger raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah! You’re really nice. I just—I um—I didn’t know what to say,” Changmin stuttered.

“… That’s alright, let’s just start all over again,” the stranger said. Holding out his hand, he announced, “My name’s Chanhee. What’s yours?”

Changmin stared at his hand before taking it. “Changmin. Ji Changmin.”

Chanhee giggled. “Chanhee. Choi Chanhee.”

_He giggled, oh my God._

“So,” Chanhee said, letting go of Changmin’s hand, “going back to my previous query, is this your first time on a plane?”

“Did you say ‘query’?” Changmin asked, amused.

“Yes. It means ‘question’,” Chanhee confirmed, unfazed.

“I know what it means, it’s just funny that you used it. Usually people would just say ‘going back to what I asked earlier’ or ‘anyway, back to the question’ or something.”

Chanhee looked at him for a few seconds, expression unreadable.

 _Okay, now I_ really _fucked up_ , Changmin groaned in his head.

But then, Chanhee burst out laughing. “Shit, I did it again,” he said, covering his mouth.

“Did what again?”

“I try not to use the word ‘question’ more than once at a time. It gets boring,” Chanhee explained.

Changmin cracked a smile. “Why is that?”

Chanhee lowered his gaze in embarrassment. “It’ll make me sound like a snob if I explain it.”

“Explain it anyway,” Changmin urged.

“Fine,” Chanhee surrendered. “I use different words in my articles to make bullshit sound smart. Unfortunately it carries over into conversations sometimes, and it makes me look like a know-it-all.”

“It does make you sound fancier,” Changmin offered.

“It’s all thanks to thesaurus dot com. Lord knows where I’d be without it.”

“So you’re a writer?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess so. If campus papers and bulletin boards count. Hopefully I’ll be a real one once I get out of college, though.”

Changmin admired his determination. Deep down, he wished he had some of that. “That’s pretty cool.”

“You think so? It’s pretty boring.”

“But you like it, right? What you do?”

Chanhee pursed his lips in thought, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t dread it.”

“Is there… Anything else you wish you’d be doing?” Changmin asked, hesitant.

Chanhee smiled shyly, then said with a hushed voice, “I wanted to be a singer.”

“A singer! Why didn’t you pursue that instead?”

Chanhee shrugged. “If it weren’t for my parents, I’d be studying music theory. But to be honest, I’m happy they didn’t let me.”

“Why’s that?” Changmin implored. He knew he was asking all the questions, but he couldn’t be bothered about his pride when he genuinely wanted to know more about this stranger.

Chanhee hesitated before asking, “What future is there for wannabes who don’t make it in the music industry, Changmin?”

_Oh._

Of course. Changmin out of all people should know.

“Right. I’m sorry,” Changmin said slowly.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve gotten over it.”

Changmin squeezed his own hands tighter. “I used to want to be an idol.”

At this, Chanhee turned to him. “You did?”

“Yeah. I had the balls to audition for an entertainment agency a long time ago,” Changmin admitted.

“Woah, that’s a big deal. Did you get in?”

Changmin forced a laugh. “Yeah. Can you believe that?”

Chanhee thought for a moment, eyes on Changmin. “I can see it, actually. Appearance-wise, you do have the look.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re cute,” Chanhee observed nonchalantly. “I can’t speak for your dancing or singing, obviously, but if they let you in, then it means they saw you as a good fit.”

Changmin felt his face get warm. _Did he just call me cute?_

“Uh, thank you, I guess,” Changmin said, embarrassed.

“So what happened? Why aren’t you with your fellow trainees waiting to debut?” Chanhee asked.

Changmin frowned. “We got pushed back.”

“Oh,” Chanhee uttered. Gingerly, he asked, “How long did you train?”

“Five years,” Changmin deadpanned. “They promised us they would debut us four years ago. But then they scouted these new trainees and more and more of them kept coming.”

Chanhee stayed silent, listening intently.

“They debuted them, and the batch after that. They kept saying we were next, that they had something big planned for us. But they forgot about us,” Changmin continued, voice trailing off.

Changmin couldn’t forget the pang he felt whenever a new group was planned to debut from his company, which grew to be predictable and all too familiar.

Some wounds just don’t go away.

“So you left,” Chanhee guessed.

“We all did. One by one, our team started dropping out. Until it was just me… And I realized that… No matter how hard you wish for it, you won’t make it if you’re not exactly what the public wants.”

“Shit,” Chanhee said under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ll get over it,” Changmin assured dismissively. “At least I don’t have to go on planes for trips and tours all the time.”

Chanhee laughed. “True. But hey, the chances of a plane going down are one in eleven million. We’ll be fine.”

“Did you have to write an article about that too?”

“No, not exactly. I was working on a piece focusing on irrational fears.”

Changmin gawked at him. “Irrational? Being scared of flying is completely rational.”

Chanhee crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned towards Changmin, challenging him. “Which animal is scarier? Sharks or cows?”

Changmin snorted. “This is a trick question, is it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Fine,” Changmin surrendered. “Sharks.”

“Beep, incorrect,” Chanhee said, holding his hands up and making an x-shape with his index fingers. “You’re more likely to get killed by a cow than a shark. The media brainwashed everyone to think the opposite.”

“You’re joking,” Changmin shook his head, albeit the grin on his face.

“I’m not! Look it up,” Chanhee exclaimed.

“There’s no internet here. Another reason to fear planes,” Changmin quipped.

Chanhee scoffed. “Okay, fine. Fair enough. But the point is, the chances of plane crashes are grossly exaggerated in films.”

“ _That_ I can acknowledge.”

Chanhee nodded, impressed. “Do you like movies?”

“Love them.”

“What kind?”

Changmin shifted his gaze to his feet. He didn’t think this through. “… Horror.”

“Why are you so embarrassed?” Chanhee asked, noting his shameful tone.

“Why wouldn’t I be? What’s _your_ favorite movie?” Changmin clapped back.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Chanhee answered unabashedly.

Changmin snapped his fingers. “See? Good movie. Is it horror? No. Now you’re gonna laugh at me because the only horror films you know are The Nun and Ouija.”

Chanhee looked at him in bewilderment. “Are you _trying_ to give me a reason to think you’re more peculiar than you already are?”

Changmin opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He didn’t know what to say.

He settled with, “So why are you still talking to me?”

“Because I like talking to you,” Chanhee answered, tone unwavering.

Changmin blinked in surprise. “Do you, now?”

“Yeah. Peculiar isn’t bad. It’s… Peculiar.”

“That’s a bad thing, isn’t it?” Changmin asked, grimacing.

Chanhee shook his head. “The definition of peculiar is ‘different, normal to what is expected’, which isn’t a bad thing in itself. But it also means ‘particular, or special’.”

_Shit._

Changmin had never been so enamored of a person before. On their first meeting, no less.

“You do spend a lot of time with the dictionary,” Changmin pondered aloud.

“Yep. I don’t have a lot of friends,” Chanhee confessed, almost too casually.

“You don’t?” Changmin asked in disbelief. “But you’re so… You’re so…”

Chanhee furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m so what?”

 _Charismatic? Interesting? Weird? Perfect?_ Changmin could go on for days.

Instead, he decided to go with: “You’re so nice.”

Chanhee pouted. “Nice doesn’t really get you far,” he said. “I mean yeah, you’d be drama-free, but it doesn’t mean anyone would want to see you, either.”

“Isn’t that good, though?”

“It gets lonely when you’re forgotten most of the time,” Chanhee said airily. “I’m used to it, though. Better than being hated, right?”

Changmin looked at him in concern. He couldn’t help but wonder.

“Why are you so casual about it?” he asked carefully.

Chanhee smiled. “Nothing’s gonna change if I moan and whine about it. Might as well enjoy it.”

“… Being alone?”

“Yeah. There’s a bunch of things you can do if no one’s paying attention. I got into writing because I didn’t have anyone I could hang out with at school,” Chanhee explained.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Changmin confessed truthfully.

“I might give off the impression that I talk a lot, and that’s true,” Chanhee admitted. “It’s just that no one ever listens.”

Changmin was at a loss for words.

He imagined Chanhee in a school classroom, his nose buried in a notebook as his classmates paid no mind to him. He felt his heart ache, knowing that Chanhee was forced to grow up and live with it, accept it and let it numb.

The loneliness.

“I would talk to you.”

Chanhee widened his eyes, taken aback. He stared at Changmin, looking for any trace of doubt in his face. Forcing a chuckle, he averted his eyes and said, “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I really would,” Changmin pushed. “I like talking to you, too.”

Changmin wanted to believe that he didn’t imagine the pink dusting Chanhee’s cheeks right after.

Changmin was about to say something when a flight attendant appeared on the aisle next to them, interrupting whatever train of thought he had.

“Here’s your food,” she announced, handing them trays of in-flight dining.

Changmin passed one tray to Chanhee, who took it gratefully. “Thank you,” he said.

After the flight attendant left, Chanhee leaned into Changmin’s ear and whispered, “The food here’s shit but I’m starving.”

“You’d eat this?” Changmin asked, astonished.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well, I’m not that desperate.”

Chanhee shrugged, tearing open the utensil wrapper. “Suit yourself.”

As Chanhee ate, Changmin decided to shift his attention towards his phone, opening Netflix to browse the movies he had saved beforehand.

Before he clicked on one, Changmin paused in his movements and shifted his eyes towards the new acquaintance next to him. Changmin wanted to relapse into another nonsensical conversation with Chanhee, racking his brain for any out of context topics he thought Chanhee could offer an opinion about.

But then, that initial fear before striking a conversation came—the breath before a leap into the pool, the sniff before tasting a foreign dish, the wary look before petting an animal. It lingered for a second too long.

And just like that, a barrier was built between them.

For the next hour or so, both of them were strangers once again.

\--

As much as Changmin hated plane rides, he wouldn’t mind them if he could somehow skip through the part he dreaded the most: the landing.

 _Breathe in, breathe out. It’s no big deal. You’ve done this before_ , Changmin encouraged himself.

“You’re shaking again.”

Changmin turned towards Chanhee, who was looking at him with worry.

He chuckled nervously, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to stop the jittering once again.

Just then, the plane started to descend.

Changmin bit down a gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

With a sudden bout of courage, Changmin spoke, “This is really weird and you might be creeped out so I totally understand if you wouldn’t want to, but…”

Chanhee raised his eyebrows, expectant.

“… Is it okay if I held your hand?”

His eyes still closed, Changmin felt his heart skip a beat as warm fingers intertwined with his.

Chanhee squeezed his hand ever so slightly, as if Changmin’s hand would break if he gripped any tighter. Changmin’s eyes fluttered open, blood pounding in his ears.

“We’ll be on the ground soon,” Chanhee assured, drawing soothing circles on the back of Changmin’s hand with his thumb.

Slowly but surely, Changmin’s breathing evened out.

They stayed in silence, hands intertwined, as two different frenzied hearts resounded in unison.

And before Changmin knew it, the plane reached the ground.

“We have reached Incheon International Airport,” the pilot’s muffled voice from the speakers announced.

Changmin exhaled deeply, letting go of Chanhee’s hand.

“Thank you,” Changmin said. He looked up to see Chanhee already staring at him.

“It’s no problem,” Chanhee replied, giving a small smile.

They waited for the plane to stop completely, a stupid grin on Changmin’s face and a blush on Chanhee’s.

It was time for them to part ways.

“So, this is it, then?” Chanhee said as other passengers around them started unbuckling their seatbelts and standing up.

Changmin’s heart sank. Putting on a smile, he nodded. “I guess it is.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence, again.

Changmin started to open his seatbelt, his movements slow.

 _This was never going to work from the start, anyway_ , he thought.

Chanhee averted his eyes, scratching his head. Keeping his tone as casual as possible, he asked, “Is it okay if I get your number?”

Changmin widened his eyes, hopeful. “Yes, of course.”

 _Never mind_.

\--

It’s been a week and Changmin has yet to hear from Chanhee.

He started to think that maybe, just maybe, Chanhee would want to break down that barrier and be friends with him.

Or maybe more, if he hadn’t been reading the signs wrong.

But on a rainy night, the numbers 7:36 glaring at him from his digital bedside clock, Changmin grew more and more doubtful.

Maybe Chanhee didn’t even exist.

Maybe his irrational fear of flying had finally gotten the best of him and his brain decided to play tricks on him and conjure up the embodiment of Changmin’s dreams just to play with his feelings.

Maybe Chanhee forgot about him.

“Who am I kidding?” Changmin muttered to no one, turning around to face the other side of his bed.

Just then, he heard a faint buzz from his phone.

_Could it be?_

He snatched his phone from his bedside table and unlocked it with the speed of lightning.

Right there, on the top of the screen, were two message notifications from an unknown number.

**unknown: hello? is this ji changmin?**

**unknown: it’s chanhee. from the plane?**

Changmin took no time to reply.

**jcm: yep!**

**cch: oh my god**

**cch: FINALLY**

**cch: sorry it took so long, i mistyped your phone number last week**

**jcm: what?? how did u find mine then**

**cch: um**

**cch: trial and error**

Changmin gawked at his screen, frozen.

**jcm: how many tries did it take???**

**cch: haha**

**cch: its embarrassing**

**jcm: tell me anyway**

**cch: … this one was the 42nd attempt**

**jcm: ARE YOU SERIOUS**

**cch: LOOK**

**cch: I REALLY LIKE TALKING TO YOU AND IDK**

**cch: i didnt wanna just give up**

Changmin burst out laughing, shaking his head.

Chanhee really was something else.

**jcm: im flattered**

**jcm: i thought u forgot about me or that maybe that hand holding thing was a bit too much**

**cch: noooooo no way**

**cch: u were scared, im glad i could help**

**cch: also holding hands with a cute guy on a plane is such a romance novel thing lmao**

Changmin felt his face heating up.

**jcm: hmmmmm**

**jcm: something thats more romance novel-esque would be a coffee shop date**

**jcm: are u up for it?**

Chanhee took a while to respond.

During that time, Changmin screamed into his pillow in embarrassment and utter bewilderment at his own courage.

**cch: ji changmin, are you asking me out?**

**jcm: well**

**jcm: yes**

**cch: haha u beat me to it**

**cch: can you pick me up tomorrow?**

**jcm: sure. is 10 am good?**

**cch: yep**

**cch: see u tomorrow~**

**jcm: see u!**

Changmin locked his phone and threw it across his bed. He covered his face with his hands, heart going a million miles per hour.

Yeah, maybe this could work.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this was a short one and admittedly, unplanned. i hope you enjoyed this, nevertheless~
> 
> hmu @sintwix on twitter~


End file.
